LONG AND FLAT

The back surface of roads the lost brother of travel the flats where crossroads connect unevenly in chaos a point of standing stranded out of position   rest areas, concrete tables chained garbage cans a sterile living room absent of comfort.   cars park lovers confess secrets while drinking warm beer   there’s a casual … More LONG AND FLAT

PATHWAYS

Skylines of the past. Barges full of memories. Secret wars of the mind releasing reminders.   Finding your way on a bridge of suitcases while conditioning to change. under satellites of ideas thawing frozen winds as day delivers.  

IN THE MOVE

A felt hat. A round angel wing molded from seasons. Warming the think machine while wandering the town in winter from rains and frost on the jacket borrowed from a clothesline in an alley where last night’s party revelers slept through a midnight rain while some searched for fame and dreams beyond the fingertips beneath … More IN THE MOVE

DREAMY

It was a night short on dreams. Abstract cellophane images without voices. Gauzy waves rising and spilling over. Busy traffic on a street, in a city I might have passed through. The sun begins to set and then rises up again; the gift of an extra day. Words write themselves onto paper, then disappear. Once … More DREAMY

CITY WATCHING

Yesterday’s puddle reflects a crescent day moon. Leather jacketed teenagers hold court on Bowery Corner. “Which way is …?” asks the stranger. Three people point in different directions; the lost hold the discovery of where they need to be. Overhead subways kill the corners with sparks. Car horns take apart the air. Sun reflected windshields … More CITY WATCHING

A LINE DRAWN

It’s a slow step into cold air; the season twists out a new face. A cat meows at a half moon. Heaven hears the barking of angry dogs. Strands of mist stretch from street lights. Whispers rise from the alley. Window dressings slumber. Libraries welcome closing hours. Rain reduces the burden of clouds. Dead winter … More A LINE DRAWN

ALWAYS THERE

It was a black moon night absent of shadows, full of dreams. Days bouquet of clouds melted into tasteful air. There was a release of sounds, living for a moment, then lost. The pulse of dark became strong. A light breeze engaged unwilling leaves. Stone walls held tightly the history of land. There was a … More ALWAYS THERE

CROSSING OVER

She considered herself a life shadow, embracing long solitary moments; eyes open to darkness. Life had become a plausible intruder as she slept away painful images and the jest of youth. She was now an unstable passenger a fleshy veneer no longer frightened of the past. She suspected the end, though assured by faith, she … More CROSSING OVER

UNDERNEATH

Fall back under early stars. The sea moves reflective waves, pulsing onto sand, building like engines of thunderous clouds. Streams of people merge into temporary spaces; strangers on corners, a brief land of shoulders staring straight ahead.  A steady rain clears the dust.  Afternoon finds a place before dusk.  Footsteps continue.  Everyone owns a portion … More UNDERNEATH

SHADOW LINE

Night shadows are the feast of awakenings. The outskirts of compassion, absent of spiritual thresholds. They are the counterparts without conversation; the willing partner in an imperfect sphere. They are unassuming.  Their intension is directed, visually controlled, a bondage of motion; their gifts are weightless, failing to intrude. Style is choreographed without independence or expression. … More SHADOW LINE